


County Fair

by coveredbyroses



Series: Supernatural Summer Celebration 2019 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Feels, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 11:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20045350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: With Michael gone and Jack declining, you and Sam spend a day at the County Fair.





	County Fair

The place is alive and buzzing, the sun beating down like it always does during a Kansas July, beams down with an unrelenting heat that makes your flesh feel like it’s going to melt right off your bones.

Sam seems to be faring worse; tee clinging to his chest, strings of walnut hair plastered to his temples as the two of you weave your way through the crowd, walking off the corn dogs.

“Black shirt wasn’t the best idea, huh?” You tease, eyes still ahead.

“I don’t look so good in a spaghetti strap,” he quips right back, and you grin, then take a pull of your bottled water.

“This is nice though, yeah?”

“It… really is,” Sam agrees, and drags a hand through the tousled damp of his hair.

A break has been long needed. There’s something wrong with Jack. You both, well, you _all_ know it. Ever since he’d killed Michael he’s just been - off. Dean’s back at the bunker with him now, with Cas, babysitting while the two of you slipped out to the County Fair.

“Think they’re okay?” you ask, and it takes Sam a minute to answer and you frown, know full well he’s just as worried as you.

“Yeah,” he says, clipped. “I’m sure they’re fine. It’ll work out, you know? We’ll - we’ll figure it out.”

You smile grim as you screw the cap on. “Yeah.”

“Hey, so-” His voice a little lighter; crisp. “Ferris Wheel?”

You grimace, and flatten a palm to your belly. “I dunno,” you say. “I’m not so sure spinny things are the best idea yet.” Sam nods.

He stops suddenly, squints at a bench cut back from the traffic, tucked underneath the shade of a plush sycamore. “Wanna chill for a bit?” he asks, swiping the film of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

There’s a light breeze here, rustling through the full leaves, and god it feels good to just sit. Sam’s close, maybe too close, his heat pulsing into you as he settles into the wooden back. He takes five long gulps of his water, breathing heavy as he twists the lid back on.

He blows out a rush of air, mumbles out a _God, it’s hot, _and then falls into an easy quiet.

A good two minutes pass, and then his eyes flick down to you. “You okay?”

There’s a couple ahead, a guy bringing the mallet down on a “Ring the Bell” attraction. The bell dings in success and the woman shrieks out a silvery laugh, then pulls him down for a victorious kiss. “Yeah,” you breathe, automatic, and Sam’s gaze slips to your target.

“So… normal,” he says after a beat, and then another pregnant pause. “You ever, I dunno - want that?”

It’s like he’s somehow attuned to your thoughts, and that’s - weird, because, yeah. You really do. “I think about it,” you nod, eyes unmoving.

“Me too.”

“Too bad we can’t,” you murmur. “I mean - it’s not like we could settle down with a civilian.”

You can feel those autumn eyes on you as his gaze slips, can feel them blazing right into the side of your skull. “It’d have to somebody in the life,” he agrees. “Somebody who, y’know, gets it.”

Okay, maybe you’ve thought about it; a life with him. Maybe not the whole white picket fence thing, but - waking up curled into the solid heat of him, going over maybe-cases over coffee in the bunker’s kitchen. You turn, drag your eyes up to his, and your breath catches in your throat. This isn’t how Sam looks at you. This is new. His brows are slanted, eyes bloomed open wide, pink lips parted. You’ve never really noticed it before, but there’s a fine glint of copper in his hair.

He leans in careful, shoulders tight and ready to lurch back if they need to - but you’re moving in too, and god, this - this is happening. His head tilts at the last second, and then his lips are a warm, slanted press against yours. You get one hand curled around the back of the bench, the other twisted into the sweat-damp length of his hair, and fuck he smells good-

He breaks away, the pressure of his mouth still lingering on yours, and flicks his eyes back ahead. They couple’s gone, a group of high school kids crowding around the tower now. Sam scratches his jaw. “You - you wanna leave?” he asks, and it takes you a moment because the flickering in your belly just won’t _stop_.

“What - like home?” The butterflies morph into something cold and heavy, and _damnit_, he’s regretting-

“No, not home - I mean, unless you wanna.” You squint up at him, mouth curved into a firm frown. “I just mean-” He smiles shy, eyes flitting up like he can find his words on the branches overhead. “Maybe, if you want - maybe we could… get outta here?”

You grin. “Yeah,” you shimmer, sinking your teeth into the plump give of your bottom lip. “Yeah, I do want that.”


End file.
